The Old Yellow Pickup

My goodness, but my grandson has brought a fresh breath of air into our home since his return from the Army. Always smiling and joking, he has helped me with so many chores. The lawn was about half mowed when he arrived. It is now finished and weed-eated. I can’t weed-eat, so I am ecstatic about the neatness of our yard.

Today we went to Abilene to hang out with his Dad and brother, and do some business. When we returned home, we went by Home Depot and bough some supplies for a job I’m working on. He bought some fancy gloves that had rubber padding on the knuckles, and told me he is going to tear down the motor in my 1981 Chevy pickup. I have agreed to sell it to him at scrap metal prices, about $250.00. He is confident he can rebuild the motor. I say for him to have at it. If it goes wrong, we can load up buckets of parts and pull pickup and parts across the scales! No harm–and he has learned much more about old car repair. And if he succeeds, he has a vintage pickup for a low cost.

He has always loved the pickup. An old friend of the family drove it for years as a work truck. I can remember David coming down the road in that old yellow pickup, coming to work with us. Good memories. He passed away this year, and I miss him.

My grandson ate supper in a hurry, and went out to “check out” the vehicle. The next thing I know, he has persuaded his brother to help him take the hood off so he could start dissembling it. He gives me a running commentary on what he has taken off: radiator, cover, carburetor, distributor. etc. A quick trip back into the house for a break and back out there. It’s 11:00 pm., dark. and he says in just a little bit he is quitting for the night…